I like my Rap music like I like my porn star Tits— larger than life and most likely fake. This debate will not go away. Real Vs. Fake in hip hop has been going on since 2pac lashed out at Mobb Deep for not being Thug Life. In reality Pac went to art school and prodigy was a ballerina, but that had nothing to do with their music because no one will ever make a rawer CD than All Eyez on Me or a song harder than Shook Ones. In rap music everything you say is supposed to be backed by court verified documents. Street cred is overrated, I know some real goons— they’re in jail. I know some real thugs—they can’t rap on beat.
“I coped the porche, I was so ecstatic
100 grand a day my operation is so elaborate
Credit card scams, that was for the faggots
Mother fuck window shopping boy I gotta have it”
-Rick Ross (MC Hammer)
I love Rick Ross because he knows how to weave a tale so grand that if you allow yourself to believe one word of it you’d be like “Damn, he’s an extraordinary human being”. You think a 300 pound Black Man could fly to Bogota and meet with the cartels without being spotted by every drug enforcement agency in the world? Of course its bullshit, but I don’t go to the movies because Ben Affleck is a bank robber; I go to the movies because Ben Affleck plays a damn good bank robber. Hip Hop purist would argue that we’ve lost touch with what hip hop was supposed to represent, that it was a music for the people to shed light on—- zzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Truthfully I don’t care about a rap artist real life unless it involves smashing a chick equally as famous. That means I don’t give a fuck about the struggle of somebody in Compton, I want to be entertained. If you hear one “Hate it or Love It” or “Brenda’s Got a Baby” you’ve heard them all. Remember back in the late 90’s you had to have these tracks:
1) Lyrical intro track
2) Club Banger
3) Calabo
4) Introspective song
For some reason Hip Hop heads love to masturbate over the introspective song as if any “true” song should always come from the heart. While I love Jay-Z’s “Lucky Me”, Foxy Brown’s “My Life” and DMX’s “Slippn’”, those aren’t the tracks you put on Best Of albums. Because “Best Of Moaning about my life” isn’t what’s hot in the streets or clubs. Sure guys like Nasand Eminem gained hip hop respect by talking about touchy subjects, but even Nas got bored with writing about what he saw from his project window when he started looking out of his penthouse window. Music is supposed to touch your soul– some music.Please argue that Bobby Womack’s 110th street was a song that could bring tears to your eyes while Trey Songz Bottles up is just a song to bring hoes to your apartment—that’s a good debate because R&B use to be a powerful genre . But Rap has never been anything more than entertainment.
I use to be a rap nerd, growing up I loved rap music, I would buy a CD every Tuesday. Then somehow I found myself losing touch with that world. Now I’ve stopped checking for lyrics and started looking at rappers like I looked at any other form of entertainment. If you have four songs that I like on an album—I’ll buy your shit. If you went platinum in this day and age—I’ll buy your shit.If you rap “They eat each other but otherwise they don’t eat much” –then I’ll buy your CD come November 23rd (cheap plug; insert Nicki).
My homie told me last month that CNN had the album of the year, so I downloaded The Capone and Nore Reunion CD, it is a really good CD– but boring. I listened to the shit once and went back to Fabolous’ Funeral Service Mixtape. I have a J Cole mixtape, listened to two songs, yawned and went back to Teflon Don. I have no interest in buying a CD by B.O.B, Wiz Khalifa, or any member of Slaughterhouse because when I’m in my whip cruising down sunset I don’t want to hear niggas talking about boring shit. I love a good punchline, but Joe Budden rapping about being depressed or Wale talking about Nike Boots doesn’t get me hype, know what gets me hype—Lil Wayne being random over a hot beat and Kanye bragging over a sick 808, give me No Ceilings any day of the week over any CD that came out in stores last year. I don’t go to Sundance because Independent Films tend to be long, slow paced, and overrated. The same thing appeals to some of these rappers who people always tell me “I should check for” well guess what I’m not checking for them because sometimes I don’t want to think, I want to say Burrrrrr and hear about lemon pepper wings. I want to go to the club and sing Pretty Boy Swag and not feel like a hypocrite because I’ve spent the entire week bashing Soulja Boy.
I’ve made peace with the fact that Cam’ron sucks now, Biggie Smalls is dead and Nas will never be Nasty. I have Illmatic, Life After Death, and dozens of CDs from the era where I gave a fuck about lyrics. All I have to do is pop in Outkast or the Belly Soundtrack if I want to relive that feeling. Come on, It’s 2010, I like my rap songs performed by Correctional Officers posing as Drug lords, pseudo Lesbian Barbie Dolls with pink hair, former Canadian TV stars, and Millionaire husbands of Pop Divas. Saying you don’t want to hear entertaining music because it doesn’t represent “realness” is like saying David Bowie is trash because Ziggy Stardust wasn’t really from outer space—who gives a fuck—it’s ALL POP MUSIC.